Memorycemetery

This is a memory of my travel to Africa. We travelled in a group across all the continent. Finally we arrived to a place called Maun near the Okavango delta, which is a superb wildlife area. Around half our group signed up for an excursion by plane into the delta, but I said I would just hire a canoe for the day, and go paddling around.
The problem with paddling around African rivers are hippos. Most
Americans have a pretty benevolent image of a hippo, shaped by Saturday
morning cartoons, but hippos kill more people in Africa than any other
large animal (malaria-carrying mosquitos are the deadliest animal of all,
of course). Hippos are not carnivorous, but they are easily scared, and
an attacking hippo can easily take apart a small boat. In fact, just
last week another tourist at the same campsite had gotten too close to a
hippo, which then attacked and seriously injured him.
But, I was assured, this tourist had been foolish. He had seen the
hippo from a distance, and had tried to paddle in very close to get a
good photo. The manager assured me that if I just avoided any hippo I saw,
the chances were that the hippo would leave me alone. Of course, if I
happened to get too close to a hippo that was submerged and thus could not
be seen … well … crossing the road is dangerous too, isn’t it?

There were crocodiles in the water as well, but the manager said they
wouldn’t bother a boat. Swimming was not advisable, however …
So, a bit nervously, I set out, keeping my eyes peeled and
constantly looking around. After an hour, though, no hippos or crocs had
appeared, and I started to relax. The river was beautiful, and birds were
everywhere. Lots of villagers were doing chores by the riverbank, and I had
the feeling of gliding through cameo shots of African life.
After two hours or so, I noticed a funny looking rock ahead of me. I
started paddling closer to investigate, when I realized that the rock had
two proturbances that looked awfully like a pair of eyes. Then I noticed
that the rock has a mouth, which was opening in a huge yawn … hippo-time!
I instantly stopped paddling, and wondered what to do now. I was around
30 feet away, which surely was far enough so that the hippo would ignore me.
On the other hand, the hippo was definitely looking in my direction … and
a local kid, who was watching all this from the shore, started gleefully
yelling “Hippo come! Hippo kill you!”.
I turned the boat and headed for shallow water. I forced myself to
paddle slowly and calmly, figuring that a slow calm object would look
less threatening. Anyways, since I wasn’t an Olympic-class rower in a
racing scull, I had no hope of outrunning the hippo, so acting innocuous
was my only chance.
I reached the shallows, and started breathing a bit easier. Now, at least,
if the hippo attacked I would see it coming - it could not spring up unseen
from the river bottom. And the river weeds would hide me from the hippo.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?
At this point, I noticed the head submerging. The hippo had decided
to do something. Was he going to go downstream and look for a better
grazing spot, or was he going to come upstream and investigate this strange
wooden object that had appeared on his river? I held my breath, grabbed
onto some weeds to stop the canoe from drifting, and just sat there, wanting
to look as innocuous as possible if the hippo decided to come upstream.
The minutes passed … and nothing happened. Slowly, keeping to the shallows,
I started paddling again, heading downstream and back to the campsite.
When the kid who had shouted “Hippo kill you” disappointedly turned
back to his chores, I figured I was safe, and relaxed.

I do not know it sounds scary when you read it, but it was a moment to remember.

Bartok Fiend

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